


Fireworks and the Fourth of July

by HeartofCanada (Tassledown), Tassledown



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Fourth of July problems, Light Bondage, M/M, PTSD, Trans Male Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-17
Updated: 2015-12-17
Packaged: 2018-05-07 07:14:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,466
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5447858
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tassledown/pseuds/HeartofCanada, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tassledown/pseuds/Tassledown
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>American holidays are insane, everyone said, but Israel hadn't really thought about what that meant. He expected trouble to be on the day of, not the week before. He just meant to stay the night before a meeting so he could get jet lag out of the way; instead he found himself hiding in America's pantry trying to remember gunfire and air raids don't happen in American streets. </p><p>He didn't expect America to come join him.<br/>[Edited text uploaded Dec 2016]</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fireworks and the Fourth of July

**Author's Note:**

> Uses the same characterization for America as for my earlier fics with him such as "Even Cold Wars Have Warm Days Sometimes" which includes him being trans in more detail.
> 
> Noam is my modern Israel OC.
> 
> [An edited copy has been uploaded Dec 2016 in place of the original writing.]

Noam was trying to decide how to answer an email from his boss when he heard the first gunshot. He shoved his laptop off his lap and bolted to his feet, rigid – waiting. Somebody fired back – automatic fire – and he darted out into the hallway.

It didn’t help: he was in Alfred’s house, in the US. He couldn’t feel anything outside and the house was huge, empty, and silent. His heart hammered in his throat.

Downstairs. He had to see outside to find out what was going on. “Alfred!” he shouted. “Alfred, where are you!?”

He was almost in the kitchen when a bomb went off, close by. He covered his head and ducked into the pantry without thinking, putting his back against the wall.

The sounds were muffled, at least. Nothing followed. He crawled to the door and pushed it open, to scan the kitchen and dart over to the window to pull back the curtains.

It was barely past dusk, the sky still a pale blue-grey. There were people in the street, walking calmly in contrast to his thundering heart. Something whistled – _rocket fire_ , his heart whispered – but the people ouside merely pointed at it until –

The night sky filled with blue and red sparks falling in a cascade. Noam swallowed, once, twice.

Not a rocket. Fireworks.

Had Alfred warned him? He tried to remember, but suddenly white lights shot into the air with a sound like a machine gun and he jerked back from the window. Unable to see the lights anymore, his heart raced, sweat rolling down his back.

“Noam?” Alfred called. “Shit, what’s wrong?”

“The – the fireworks. They’re too close.” He should be fine, he was used to them before now but he hadn’t expected it and his body wasn’t calming down. Another rocket screamed into the air and he turned and bolted back into the pantry, beyond all logic. Alfred swore and hit the lights inside as he followed, shutting the door behind himself.

From his position, huddled on the floor, Noam wrapped his arms around his knees and swore. “I’m sorry man, I should know better.”

“I thought I’d mentioned it was my Independence Day in a week.”

“I didn’t realize that meant there’d be fireworks NOW.”

Alfred touched his shoulder and Noam reached to his back for a gun he wasn’t wearing. The touch retreated until Noam reached up and found Alfred’s arm again himself.

“Sorry,” he mumbled. “Reflex.”

“I didn’t know you would react that badly or I’d have suggested you not come until after.”

“Normally I’m _fine_.” Noam objected. “I’m just not – not prepared for it. And people don’t set them off in the _streets_.”

“They’ll probably be done soon. Usually if its this early it’s just one or two families for a half hour or so.”

Noam buried his face harder in his knees, shaking as the next firework went off like a bomb. He struggled to breathe, waiting – waiting for the house to shake, the sound of crumbling stone and broken wood – but nothing came. He could feel the tears on his face and didn’t care.

Alfred shifted in front of him and Noam looked up for a distraction. All Alfred had on was an undershirt, almost see through, meant to go under his work shirts and binders and a pair of sweatpants. They’d both been relaxing, as Noam was almost half-asleep trying to cope with the time change - had been almost asleep before he was shot through with adrenaline.

He focused on Alfred as the most interesting thing in the pantry with him. He could see the worry in Alfred’s face, the way his lips were slightly parted, like the gap between his shirt and pants. His hair was the same mess it always was, and his glasses had slipped down his nose enough he had to have trouble seeing out of them.

“I’ll –” Noam started, then licked his lips. “I’ll wait until it’s been quiet a while to go back to my room.”

“Yeah, sure. You want company in here?”

Noam felt his face heat at the words but couldn’t muster that much hate for the embarrassment. It was better than the alternative. “Only if you want to.”

Alfred laughed. “I didn’t think you’d be in the mood for that.”

“Only because it’s distracting,” Noam objected. “It’s stupid to get this worked up about it. It’s not like –” He cut himself off before he reminded himself how long it had been since he’d had war in the streets back home. It wasn’t very long.

“It’s not stupid,” Alfred said. “I get the shakes from them too if I’m not expecting it.”

He sat down next to Noam and pulled him from his huddle to press into his chest. Noam traded clinging to his knees for clinging to Alfred’s chest. Alfred was taller than him – not as tall as Iran, but mostly he was just that short – and comfortably warm. Not hot like he felt, his skin hyper-sensitive to any breath of air or touch.

It had been silent a while. He started to relax, slowly. “Do you even have your cock with you?” he asked, joking as much as seeking it out.

“No. Were you dead set on me fucking you? We could go up to my room if you want that.”

“Not yet,” Noam said. He wouldn’t believe the people were done for another five minutes. “Maybe in a little while.” He ran his hands up under Alfred’s shirt and stroked his waist, enjoying the touch of his skin. “I mean –”

Another rocket screamed into the air outside, followed by gunfire. Noam jerked Alfred down to the floor on top of himself with a curse.

“It’s okay,” Alfred said. “It’s a Roman Candle. C’mon, don’t you have those?”

“N-not that often.” Noam tried to find a memory of it in his people and stopped trying as it didn’t bring up anything good. “I don’t know. We d-don’t have all that many days to use them and never in residential areas.”

“What, all your holidays and none get fireworks?”

Alfred was teasing him, Noam knew, and tried to play along. “Our Independence day. Purim. A couple others.”

“I should’ve guessed Purim.” Alfred joked. “Of course there’s fireworks on Purim.” He stroked Noam’s hair out of his face, fingers brushing through the sweat on his face “I promise nobody’s hurt outside. I’d know. Remember?”

Noam nodded shallowly and dug his nails into Alfred’s back, to remind himself he was real and solid and on top of him. The closet floor was cool tile he could feel through the sweat on his back, and the room smelled like flour and spices – of course it did. It was a pantry. There was food all around him, canned and boxed and bagged.

“This is stupid,” he said out loud, to remind himself. He’d feel better if he could chase something, but it was rude – and kind of illegal – to scare people for having fun. But he wouldn’t be as scared if he could do something about what was bothering him, even if he was doing something stupid about it.

He was going to work himself into an entirely different kind of panic if he kept on that thought. Alfred was stroking his back, relaxed and unfocused. He was definitely the most interesting thing in the room and Noam reached up to turn his face lightly and kissed him on the lips, to taste him too. Alfred kissed back, his mouth tasting of something with mint in it – mouthwash, probably. Noam hoped he’d remembered his own, but couldn’t think past their lips and his hands riding up Alfred’s back.

Overtop him, Alfred shifted, pulling his leg out from under Noam’s. Noam mewled against him and tried to do it again, to hold him closer. Alfred pulled free and pinned his leg down in turn with a laugh.

“If you’re going to wrap around me like a monkey, we need to be on a bed, not the floor.”

Noam groaned, tensing up as something outside started going tap-tap-tap. The skin on the back of his neck prickled with the urge to be _sure_ it was only fireworks.

“Tie me up?” he pleaded.

“What?”

“Tie me up, then I’ll stop – fidgeting so much. It gives me something to do other than being trouble.”

“You’re not trouble for me,” Alfred said automatically, then cupped his face. “You sure you want that?”

Noam nodded, not sure what else to say. The fact that Alfred was always cautious about it was… something of a relief, whenever he asked. “You know my safeword.”

“Alright.”

Noam worried for a moment that Alfred wouldn’t have anything to use, but he quickly realized he’d underestimated him. He stripped Noam of his belt and pulled his wrists overhead to wrap it around them. It was hardly secure, but that wasn’t the point. Noam closed his eyes and tested it and relaxed.

“That work for you?”

“Yeah. Thanks.” Noam smiled at him

Alfred smirked and undid the button on Noam’s pants. “So this is fine now?”

Noam swallowed and nodded, embarrassed all over again at how hard he was just from having Alfred on top of him. It was stupid; Alfred could hardly have _not_ noticed this before now, given how they were lying.

Alfred jerked his pants down to his knees and then knelt on the fabric, trapping Noam’s legs against the floor. He shifted under him, testing how restrained he was now and made a small pleased noise at it.

“Happy?” Alfred asked. He slid his hands up under Noam’s shirt and pulled it up to his armpits to expose his skin.

“Fuck,” Noam breathed happily. The air felt cold on his sweaty skin. He was still breathing hard, still anxious, but Alfred’s lips on his skin felt good – better than anything else. “You…”

“Do you want something?” Alfred asked, close enough his words breathed along his skin.

“Don’t stop, fuck, don’t stop.”

Alfred made another amused noise and kissed lower, veering to one side to kiss the top of his thigh. Noam jerked in place and bit his lip to keep a curse behind his lips.

Something boomed outside and Noam gasped and swore, jerking up to being seated. Alfred caught his wrists and started to take off the belt until Noam shook his head.

“No, no don’t just – hold me, shit. Please. I’m okay, I’m okay I just – God.”

“Do you want to lie down again?”

Noam went down onto his back and nodded weakly. Alfred followed him down, laying his weight across him full length. Noam exhaled slowly and closed his eyes, trying to remember where he was.

“Thanks,” he breathed. “I just – the weight, it helps.”

“I know. I’m here.” Alfred trailed a finger along Noam’s shoulder and laughed softly. “You’re almost as stubborn as I am.”

“Yeah, well.” Noam grumbled under his breath. His heart was still racing, but that’s what sex was for. If he was going to be aroused and unable to think, it might as well be fun.

It took another minute or so of silence before he grunted and pushed his body into Alfred’s touch again, to get him to move his hands. Alfred laughed and kissed his lips softly.

“Did you want something?” he teased.

“Fuck me,” Noam moaned.

Alfred slipped his hand down between their bodies to grip Noam’s cock. Noam shivered and started to pant, his throat tight. Alfred kissed the edge of his jaw and laid more heavily on top of him as the fireworks started up again in earnest – screamers this time, the ones that sounded like rockets. Noam closed his eyes and bit his lip, then snapped them open to watch Alfred. He was sucking on Noam’s neck as he jerked him off, lying on top of him, lazy and calm.

“Alfred,” Noam whimpered.

“Yeah?”

“Don’t stop.”

It wasn’t an air raid; not with Alfred this calm. Or at least, Alfred might be this calm during an air raid, but he didn’t think he’d _lie_ to him about it, that was the thing. Nobody was setting off rockets in D.C. It was just fireworks.

Noam fidgeted harder and jerked under him, breathing hard. Alfred pushed his chest down and moved down his body to engulf his cock in his mouth instead. Noam thrust hard up into his mouth with a gasp. Alfred pinned his hips until Noam stopped. One hand disappeared, to do who knew what, but Noam was too distracted by what he was doing with his tongue to care.

He arched his back and pulled his wrists down until the belt buckle pressed agaisnt the crown of his head. His legs were still trapped under Alfred, but it was a good trapped, putting enough weight on him he could flex and struggle, but not throw him off.

Move with his arousal, he thought and focused on that instead of the chaotic sounds around them.

“Shit, man,” Noam moaned. “Don’t stop, please don’t stop.”

His breath was unnaturally loud in his ears, drowning out the outside noise but he didn’t care. If something happened, he’d damn well find out fast. He bit his lip and shook his head, unsure if Alfred would jerk back or bite if he was upset, and Noam’s skin shivered so hard he thought it was going to crawl off his body. He jerked in place and gasped, going over the edge of his orgasm as Alfred held him down.

The floor was still cold underneath his sweat, maybe more cold than it had started out. Alfred sat up and stripped out of his shirt to press it to his mouth. He wiped off his face and laughed softly down at him.

“You feeling better now?”

“Yeah,” Noam closed his eyes and twisted his wrists free of the belt. He sat up and dumped the belt on top of Alfred’s wadded up shirt so he could hug his waist and kiss him again. “Thanks for that.”

Alfred kissed him back. “Think you’re ready to come out of the pantry now?”

The night was silent for the moment, and Noam’s nerves felt dulled at least for the moment. He allowed himself to hope they might be done for the night and nodded. “Yeah, I think so. The tile’s getting hard.”

“You’ll probably match it soon again, don’t worry.” Alfred smirked.

Noam groaned. “That was _terrible_.”

“Yeah, but it’s true.” Alfred picked up his shirt and the belt and got up.

Noam hitched his pants back up over his hips, but didn’t bother doing them up. He got up quickly, eager to follow that unrepentant smile back to his bedroom. It was impossible to stay annoyed with him.

Besides, his bedroom had Alfred’s cock waiting in it.

**Author's Note:**

> Obvious note: PTSD is very individual, so I don't suggest that this is a good kind of distraction for everyone. Noam is just an adrenaline junkie.


End file.
